


Bear Skin

by Marguerite Muguet (margueritem)



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 07:37:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margueritem/pseuds/Marguerite%20Muguet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duncan meets a stranger and makes a bargain with him. Inspired by the folktale of the same name, “Bearskin”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bear Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my website/written before 2002.
> 
> Betaed by Julia.

Once upon a time, there lived a young warrior in a village, in the midst of the hills of the highlands. His name was Duncan MacLeod, and he was one of the chieftain’s sons. He always fought bravely alongside his brothers, and in time of peace, he shared the daily chores in the village. He was very handsome, and many maidens of the village sighed after him. They wished to be asked to be his wife, and they did everything they could to be noticed. Duncan, however, had only eyes for Debra Campbell, the daughter of a neighbouring clan’s chieftain. Luckily for him, she didn’t seem indifferent towards his advances.

One day, however, Debra fell ill. It was a mysterious illness, one that the healer had never seen before. She didn’t know how to heal Debra, who seemed to fade from day to day. Debra’s illness had cast a cloud of despair on both villages, for she was well loved, but it didn’t compare to the blackness and fear that were inside Duncan’s heart. Day and night, he was at Debra’s side, until her mother sent him home. However, unable to face his mother’s compassionate eyes or his father’s gruff gestures of affection, he went into the forest, walking under the moonlight, trusting that with his sword he was safe from creatures of the night. He had heard stories of wicked spirits, and he wasn’t foolish; he didn’t venture very far from the village.

And so he walked, and he raged silently against his helplessness. If only... if only he could do something, anything. When it came to arms, few were those who could beat him, but when it came to healing, he knew next to nothing. He could hurt, but not heal; what good did it do? Suddenly, he heard a sound, like the cracking of a branch, and he unsheathed his sword, looking at where he thought the sound had come from. Soon, a man stepped out of the woods, and walked towards him. He was dressed in breeches with a long coat, all in black. His blond head tilted to one side, the man’s gaze travelled over Duncan, and all the while, the man didn’t say a word. The man’s attitude disturbed Duncan, and he asked, “Who are you?”

The man, instead of answering, said, “Tell me, dark warrior, do you have the courage that goes with using a sword like the one you, oh so menacingly, brandish at me?”

Piqued by the man’s words, Duncan replied, “Of course. A warrior without courage isn’t much of a warrior.”

“Really?” The man smiled; it sent unpleasant shivers down Duncan’s back. “Then look behind you.”

Duncan did so, expecting to see some bandits waiting to rob him or kill him, maybe both. Instead, he found a big bear, on its hind legs, that was growling at him. The beast attacked; Duncan jumped back. The beast roared, and Duncan had to avoid its big paws. Duncan was faster, and he circled around it, trying to find an opening. At long last, he found himself behind the bear, and he pierced it with his sword. The beast lay at his feet, dead.

The sound of hands clapping reminded him of the stranger’s presence. “Good, good. I see you’re a good, courageous warrior.” The man came closer to Duncan, much too close for his comfort. The man’s hand came to rest on Duncan’s arm, and he smiled. That smile reminded Duncan a bit of the way some of the bolder girls in his village had smiled at him. It was hungry, and Duncan wondered what kind of hunger the man felt.

He took a step back, and the stranger’s hand fell off Duncan’s arm. “What do you want from me?” said Duncan. He was getting tired of all this. He didn’t trust the man, who kept looking at him with that strange smile. All of this felt surreal to Duncan; it made him uncomfortable. He wondered who he was really talking to.

The other man got up and said, “I have a proposition for you. I know there is a sick girl in one of the villages near here, and nothing your healer can do will save her. I, on the other hand, can, but only if you do something for me.”

“What?” Duncan answered right away. Even if he thought the man was the Devil himself, he would do anything for Debra.

At Duncan’s eagerness, the stranger smiled and said, “For seven years, you shall not wash. You can’t cut your hair, nor brush it, and you cannot cut your fingernails.” He grabbed the bear, and after a quick shake, there was nothing left of it in the man’s hands but the skin. “You’ll also wear this all the time; you will sleep with it, and it shall be your only blanket. Finally,-and this is the most important part of our agreement-you can’t go back to your village until the seven years are up, starting tonight. If you fail to follow this rules or if you die before the seven years are up, the girl will die, and you’ll be mine forever.”

It wasn’t an easy decision. Duncan would have to leave tonight, and he wouldn’t be able to say good-bye to his family and friends. They would wonder where he was, but he couldn’t tell them. Also, if he somehow failed or died, Duncan was afraid of the price to pay; his soul, he thought. However, Duncan agreed; Debra’s life depended on him. After giving his answer to the strange man, he put the bear skin on his shoulders and walked on the path, his home at his back.

The first year, he was able to live in other villages; he worked for his bread, but soon he was too dirty to stay near people. They couldn’t understand why he didn’t wash, and he didn’t explain it to them. God only knew what they would say if he admitted to having made a pact with the Devil. And so, he went to live in the forest, in a cave. He hunted or gathered his food, and he drank clear water from the river. His hair grew, knots multiplied in it; his nails lengthened until he thought he could forget about using his sword when he hunted. Dirt covered his body, his face, a black layer that hid his fine features; Duncan didn’t recognise himself anymore when he saw his reflection in the river. The bear skin only helped in giving him this half-wild, vaguely human look. It was, however, warm, and he was very grateful, for the winters were very cold.

One day, during the spring of his fourth year in exile, Duncan was exploring parts of the forest unknown to him, when he found a clearing and, in its middle, a small house. It was a simple dwelling, with a chimney-he could see the smoke coming from the top-and on one side there was a stable, while on the other side there was a small garden. Staying in the forest, Duncan walked around the clearing, trying to see who lived there. The door opened, and a tall man got out. He was wearing light-coloured breeches, with an arranged, long-sleeved shirt. He had an axe in one hand, and he started chopping wood. Duncan looked at this with interest, for he hadn’t seen a human being for a long, long time. So long, in fact, that he only half-remembered the sound of a human voice, even his own. Duncan was too far away to see clearly, and he couldn’t discern the man’s features, only that he had long dark hair.

Duncan stayed there, observing the man’s movements and listening to his whistling. His attention was so captivated that he didn’t hear anyone approaching until he felt a sword on his neck. Three man had surrounded him, and Duncan could see three horses farther inside the forest. The man holding the sword that threatened his life was tall, dark-haired and had a scar on his face. The other two had their heads shaved; one looked like a bear while the other gave Duncan the impression of a serpent. They were all dressed in dark clothes, and they were very well armed.

“Well, well, look at what we have here.” It was the man with a scar that had spoken. When he spoke again, he directed his words to the bear-like man. “Silas, pick him up.” Silas grabbed Duncan and pushed him away from the tree that Duncan had been leaning on to the clearing.

The man with the axe had stopped cutting wood, and was looking at them. He asked, “What’s going on?”

Silas pushed Duncan a last time, and he fell. Briefly, Duncan thought of unsheathing his sword, but they were four. Four against one, the odds said he’d die, and his death meant Debra’s. He felt once again a sword at his neck; he should have tried to run, but running had never been his first reaction towards danger. He looked at the four men, and he hoped that they would let him go, thinking him harmless.

“Hello, Methos. We found him near here, watching the house,” answered Silas. So, that was his name: Methos. Duncan could observe Methos’ face now that he was closer, but he tried not to be obvious about it.

Methos, however, didn’t hide his perusal, and said, “He seems harmless enough. Dirty and unkempt, maybe, but not dangerous. Why don’t you let him go, Kronos?” He was talking to the man with the scar, who snorted and sheathed his sword. Kronos’ eyes, however, stayed on him, watching him.

The fourth man, whose name Duncan didn’t know, finally spoke. “He looks like a beast with that bear skin on him.”

Kronos smiled, and said, “Maybe he is a beast.”

The man’s smile, and the way he said those words made Duncan react. “I’m not a beast!” His voice was guttural from years of silence, and it surprised him. He looked at the others, to see how they had reacted. Kronos was still sneering; Silas and the fourth man looked bored, and Methos just kept looking at him. Duncan couldn’t read him or guess what he was thinking.

“Oh! So he can talk.” Silas sounded disappointed, but Duncan couldn’t understand why. Silas left then and took the horses to the stable.

Methos ignored the bear-like man, and said, “What were you doing there?”

Duncan met Methos’ eyes, but then quickly looked away. “I was exploring the forest when I saw this house. I was curious, that’s all.”

Kronos didn’t seem to trust him, but Methos just said, “Well now, I hope your curiosity is satisfied. We can let him go, I think.”

Kronos and the fourth man went inside the house, but not before shooting him warning looks. Not waiting for them to change their minds, Duncan scrambled to his feet and hurried back into the forest and to his cave. After seeing the house and its inhabitants, however, the cave seemed much colder and much more bare then it had before. He’d look into the flames of his small fire, and he’d half-remember Methos’ voice. Finally, one day, Duncan decided to go back to the house. He was more careful this time, and he found a better hiding place. He saw the door open, eventually, and Silas, Kronos and the fourth man, armed with crossbows, got out. They got on their horses, and left. Later, Methos got out with a basket, and he gathered some vegetables from the garden.

And so spring turned to summer; Duncan came often to this place to observe Methos. He looked as the man cut trees, as he washed clothes, as he made repairs on the house. Often while doing these chores, Methos sang. Somehow, just being near the man, Duncan felt less lonely, and it was a pleasure to hear another’s voice. One morning, Duncan was observing Methos, who was plucking strange herbs in the forest, when the man surprised him by speaking.

“You know, after all this time, you could show yourself.” Then, Methos looked directly at him, and smiled, just a little.

Reluctantly, heart beating a little faster, Duncan got out of his hiding place. “How did you know I was here?”

“Oh, you were careful, but, like my brothers, I’m a hunter. I could feel your eyes on my back.” While he talked, Methos kept picking up herbs, looking at him occasionally. “So, your curiosity was not satisfied. What do you say if, from now on, you show yourself? That way we can talk.”

Instead of answering, Duncan asked, “What are those herbs you’re gathering?”

Methos smiled again, and taught him the different uses of the herbs one could find in the forest. From that day on, they talked, and became friends. They were very careful to meet when the other three brothers were away; Methos insisted on it, and Duncan never argued. At first, most of the talking was done by Methos, and Duncan was happy to just listen. The past years spent mostly alone, in the silence of the forest, had taught Duncan how to listen. To listen to the forest, to its sounds, but to also listen to himself, to learn more about who he was. That day, Duncan realised that the silence had also taught him to listen to others, past the words to the feelings behind them. He heard Methos’ loneliness and his boredom at living with his brothers, with whom he had little in common. He also saw his wish to leave and travel far from here. Duncan felt an echo inside of himself. He, too, after moving from village to village and later living in the forest, had discovered a taste for travel. The thought of home didn’t hurt so much anymore when it crossed his mind; it was only a word tainted with bitter-sweetness now. Duncan yearned to see what he’d discover if he walked towards the sun. Methos never said anything explicitly; he never opened himself too much. He never spoke of his dreams, but Duncan wasn’t like him, and he often spoke of his yearnings without shame. When he did so, a sad smile appeared on Methos’ lips, and he simply said, “That insatiable curiosity of yours.”

And summer turned to fall, to winter and to spring once again. Years passed this way, the two friends finding ways of meeting, and growing closer each time they did. The more they talked, the more Duncan felt a strange stirring in his heart. It didn’t hurt, not really, but when he looked at Methos, he was painfully aware of his long, unkempt hair, his long, dirty fingernails and the dirt covering him. He sometimes felt the urge to jump into a lake, summer or winter, and scrub, scrub, scrub. But he only looked sadly at his reflection, wishing he had his old appearance. His friend seemed to feel his sadness sometimes, but he never asked about his past or why he never bathed. He had, however, once asked where he lived; Duncan’s answer had been vague, and Methos never saw the cave. Methos brought him food, sometimes, especially during the winter, and Duncan was grateful, for the winters seemed harsher than they had been, and he didn’t know if he would have survived without Methos’ help.

At the end of the seven years, the Devil showed himself, once more, to Duncan. He was dressed as he had been the first time, but he was smiling now, looking pleased. Duncan had lost track of the date, and he realised what the Devil’s appearance meant. It puzzled Duncan to see that the other wasn’t angry, and he thought he should have been, for Duncan hadn’t died nor failed to follow the instructions. While part of him was glad that he had done so, and that Debra was safe, another part of him dreaded the end of the seven years. He had stayed away from his clan and family because he had had to, but now there was reason for not going back. In fact, he had to return to his village, for his parents must think him dead after seven years of absence.

“You made it, and, as agreed, Debra is well. You can go back now.” The strange man seemed ready to disappear once more, but Duncan stopped him.

“Wait!” The man looked at him, waiting for Duncan to continue. “Can you clean me? Please.”

“Done.” At that single word, the bear skin fell from Duncan’s shoulders. Looking at his clothes and arms, Duncan saw that they were clean and that his nails were cut. He touched his face, and he didn’t feel the layer of dirt anymore. He ran his hands through his hair, and it felt clean and soft.

He thought of Methos then and of how much he had wished that he wasn’t so dirty. Unfortunately, now that he was clean, he doubted that Methos would recognise him, and, more importantly, now that he could, he had to go back to his village. Duncan thought of going to see him anyway, but it would only make things harder, and maybe a clean cut was better. He didn’t have any belongings except his sword, and so he returned home, wondering all the way if he was doing the right thing with Methos.

It took a whole day, but finally he arrived. His re-appearance caused an uproar. His mother kept going from kissing to mothering to hitting him, asking all the while where he had been. His father looked at him reprovingly, but he too welcomed him back. Duncan learned that Debra had miraculously healed seven years ago from her illness, and she had married Duncan’s cousin, Robert, after they had all resigned themselves to Duncan’s disappearance. She was now well into her third pregnancy, and seemed very happy. Duncan smiled at hearing these news, and his heart didn’t hurt because of them.

Duncan found once again his place as one of the chieftain’s sons and shouldered the duties that went with it. A year passed, and Duncan’s reappearance became old news. His parents would often ask where he had been, but he kept quiet, trying to chase the memory of Methos from his mind and the sadness their questions brought. Sometimes, when he couldn’t keep the memories away, he thought that, without Debra’s mysterious illness and the strange man’s bargain, he would never have met Methos; a thought that troubled him more than he liked to dwell on. In those moments, Duncan thought that maybe it wasn’t the Devil he had bargained with after all. And if Methos’ voice and Methos’ face refused to fade from his mind, what could he do? It was best to pretend he was forgetting.

He tried to adjust to the community life, but after spending seven years alone, the multitude of voices and sounds had become alien to him. His parents noticed this; they saw how silent their son had become, how calm he was now. Their boy had changed; he had become a man, but not the man they had thought he would be. That was why they weren’t surprised when Duncan asked to be allowed to leave, to travel and see the world. They had seen him look towards the forest, towards where he had come from the day of his return; they had felt his absence in mind if not in body. They gave him a horse, clothes and money; they told him to be careful and good. Their silent understanding warmed Duncan’s heart, and he didn’t feel quite so bad at leaving them again.

On horse, the trip to Methos’ house was much shorter, and he entered the clearing at mid-afternoon. Methos was alone, cutting wood, as he had been that first time Duncan had seen him, and he had a sour look on his face. Methos stopped and looked at him. After waiting a moment for Duncan to talk, he said, “Yes? Can I help you?”

Methos didn’t recognise him, as some foolish part of Duncan’s heart had hoped he would, but he had thought of what to say if this happened. “I think so. My curiosity is still not satisfied, and I was wondering if you’d help me.”

Methos didn’t react at first, but then surprise passed over his face, and after a time, he smiled. Duncan felt his heart jump at the sight; he smiled back and got off his horse.

Methos let the axe fall and walked towards Duncan. When he was close, he clenched his hand into a fist, and hit Duncan in the face. “There. That’s for making me think you were dead.” He wasn’t smiling anymore; on the contrary, he was frowning.

Duncan looked at him, rubbing his chin. Methos’ punch had hurt, and Duncan was sure the side of his face would be very colourful very soon. He didn’t know what to say; Methos was justified in his anger.

After a moment, Methos sighed and said, “Come on. Let’s go someplace else before my brothers come back. You can tell me all about it then.”

They went to their old meeting place, where Duncan told Methos the whole tale. Methos wondered out loud who the stranger could have been, but Duncan just shrugged. He didn’t care anymore; he was just glad he had met the man. They fell silent after that; a comfortable silence, like the ones they used to have a year ago. Duncan decided now was as good a time as any and he asked Methos, “Would you like to follow the sun with me?”

Methos frowned, not understanding. “What?”

Duncan smiled and said “I’ve always wondered what kind of place I’d see if I did. Do you want to come with me?”

Then, Methos smiled and said, “Yes.”

Duncan was so happy; he hugged Methos, who tensed in surprise, but after a few seconds, returned the embrace. Letting him go, Duncan got up, and pulled the other man to his feet. They went back to the house, and got Methos’ meagre belongings. They left on Duncan’s horse, not looking back.

From that day on, Duncan’s parents never heard from their son again, and the remaining three brothers never found the missing one. As for Duncan and Methos, they travelled around the world; they saw many things, but Duncan’s curiosity was never satisfied. Methos often complained about it, but he never left Duncan’s side, since he, more often than not, enjoyed himself. As for the “happily ever after part”, it is enough to know that they had more good days than bad.


End file.
